Dead Men Tell No Lies
by EygptianFireFly
Summary: It wasn't that George Kirk wasn't unwilling to give his life to save the survivors of the U.S.S. Kelvin, it was just that he had another option. He just never expected it would change his life in an unprecedented manner. Amanda Grayson had a choice between the emotion of her heart and the logic of her mind, somehow she didn't think Sarek was going to be happy with her. Roughtrade
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Adrift. For the past ten years it hadn't mattered where they were, or what their mission was, Winona had only needed to know that her George had been with her. Now, he wasn't. He had left her, left her to raise his sons, left her by herself. She hadn't been by herself in ten years, longer than that because she had been attached to George Kirk the first day they had met in academy. He had been stunning, sun-bleached blond hair, summer-sky blue eyes, and a smile that just lights up the entire world. George had drawn people in, he emitted charm and friendship like the Sun emitted light. He was friends with all sorts of people, many of which Winona did not agree with at all, she had had to give several undesirables a talking to over the years. George Kirk had been hers since she had first seen him. It had just taken her a few years to get him to agree.

But now he was gone. He had left her. Winona breathed deeply, trying not to panic, what was she going to do now that her George was gone? She had given him two sons, had followed him everywhere, had bowed to his parent's wishes, she willingly took his name. And he left her.

No, George had chosen to do the right thing, he had saved everyone. The USS Kelvin had taken too much damage, there was no way for them to get out of the situation, and the self-destruct had to go through. With the auto pilot off line someone had to stay with the ship and guide it into the enemy, no her George wouldn't have given his life for anything less than saving everyone. George wouldn't have misread a situation; he was too good; he did exactly what he had to.

Someone off to the side was asking her questions, asking for names, but she didn't answer. Winona Kirk looked down at her son and knew he would be the spitting image of her late husband. He would grow up wearing George's face, using George's eyes, using George's smile; but he would never be his father. There was no way anyone could match the bravery and courage of her George. He might wear George's skin, but it was on loan. She would have to spend some time reminding him that he wasn't wearing his own skin, it was on loan.

She would make up a list, she decided, all things the boy wouldn't be allowed to do. Because he was wearing George's skin. There were a dozen predilections and habits she had made sure George was cured of. Winona was positive her George had never realized that those things were dirty, that hanging around, being with, those people was rubbing their filth off on him. Winona would make sure the boy didn't attempt any of those horrible sinful things. Certainly he would never be allowed near the hideous Christopher Pike, not after what he attempted to get her George into. The audacity of the male, to believe he would make a better partner for her mate than she would. That just because George willingly found time to spend with him, no matter how she tried to dissuade him, didn't mean George wanted him. He didn't, want Christopher Pike that is; he had chosen Winona to be his spouse after all, she was the one who had given him children. 

"Don't worry. You may be wearing his face but I won't let you forget it's not yours. You'll do good, I promise you'll earn it." Winona murmured to the baby at her chest, forgetting where she was. There were very few in the medical shuttle where she had given birth to the child wearing his father's face, but those there watched in concern and determination. They had just listened as the bravest most charitable person they knew gave his life so that they would survive. They would not fail in protecting his son.

"Winona you must be tired, why don't you give the child to me while you sleep?" The doctor murmured soothingly, pressing a hypo gently into her neck and taking the newborn from her lax grip. There was something wrong with Winona Kirk. It went well beyond bad postpartum chemistry or post-traumatic stress disorder and into the danger of harming herself or others. For now the doctor and her limited staff were not able to help Winona Kirk, but they could take care of George Kirk's son, and it would start with good pediatric care.

The medical shuttle was not equipped to do proper Federation aftercare for a new born, there were inoculations and enhancements that were general practice by pediatric doctors that could not be administered, but what the doctor could do she would do. There was a battery of tests that they had the equipment to proceed with. Height and weight were a little on the small side, but that was predicted given that Winona Kirk had gone into labor several weeks early because of the stressful situation they had found themselves in. Eye color was noted, blue, and digital prints of his hands and feet were being taken when the forceful hold of shuttle-fetching programs could be felt drawing the shuttles in. The large vessel the shuttles were approaching was massive; at least twice the size of the USS Kelvin and instead of being shaped like a Starfleet vessel it was a long rectangular ship. Painted on the side as they approached the flight bay was the name: SGC Narcissius.

Inside the flight bay were rows and rows of small space craft hanging one ontop of the other as technicians and mechanics floated from one area of the bay to the next. The lack of gravity ensuring that even if something came loose in the hanger it would be unlikely to do any damage. It was a busy, messy place, and once the shuttles started landing it was crowded too.

Everything was handled with a smooth precision, almost as if it were routine, calming many of the survivors. Every survivor was interviewed for name, rank, and mental or physical trauma; ensuring that a complete record was available to send to Starfleet headquarters. All others were assumed dead. With the loss of both the Captain and First Mate Kirk, Doctor Heben'gi, as chief medical officer was put in the position of command, where she met Commander Tresk of the SGC Narcissus with the new born James Tiberius Kirk in her hands, crying.

The baby was loud and squirming with energy he shouldn't have had only several hours out of the womb. She had been quickly escorted to a side room so as to not interfere or upset the other survivors of the Kelvin and directed that the Commander of the vessel would be with her momentarily, he had been waylaid by another issue. Heben'gi tried not to be disgruntled that the Commander's first priority wasn't taking care of the survivors of the Kelvin, but acknowledged that it was entirely possible the vessel had other possibly dangerous items to deal with. But the baby just would not stop screaming.

The infant was screaming and squirming in its limited way when the doors opened for two men. Heben'gi did not have a good sense of hearing not with screams of the infant and the dead ringing in her ear so she only caught every few words.

"George Kirk is-"

"We understand that-"

"in this light-"

"take the baby"

Unprofessionally, and very rudely Heben'gi, Chief Medical Doctor of the USS Kelvin, interrupted the man who was speaking. "Who is the chief medical officer aboard this vessel."

The man who had approached with the commander, lightly stepped forward, "Did you need something Dr. Heben'gi?"

Willing to admit that she was probably overreacting but not really caring, Heben'gi lightly thrust the baby into his arms, "What I need is sleep, but this child cannot be put back with Winona Kirk." Heben'gi glared fiercely at the man she was thrusting the child toward, "I will sleep, and eat, and ensure that those who have survived the Kelvin are being taken care of and then I will come find you. If you do not have the baby, if you have hurt, or allowed it to be mistreated I will be very displeased." At the end of her rope Heben'gi turned and walked to the general area she knew were the sleeping quarters, it might not be appropriate but she needed to rest and recover. If they hurt the baby she would find them and ensure they hurt, a lot. Until then she had no choice but to trust them with the infant.

"Well," said one man after the alien doctor had left, "that's one way to deal with trauma."

Dr. Jeremy Beckett was not surprised to return to his infirmary aboard the SGC Narcissus and find a member of the Kelvin's decimated crew standing above the incubator and crib that he had placed the Kirk child in. George Kirk had been on the SGC Narcissus for over four years and had given his life to ensure the survival of his friends and family. Beckett had grown up in the SGC culture and knew intimately how sacrifice and charisma could make a determined and loyal man a god. So he would let the survivor watch the baby, but he would make sure nothing could hurt that child.

"Can I help you?"

The man sighed, "Winona isn't likely to ever let me near him once she's herself again. I just -" head down and braced against the see-through box, Jeremy could guess what the baby was to this man.

"I am Dr. Jeremy Beckett, CMO of the SGC Narcissus; we haven't been able to get Mrs. Kirk to answer any of our questions, were you close enough to the deceased to know his medical history?" The young man turned and Jeremy observed the hunched form. Attractive, even when beyond tired and having lost a dear friend, the man's hazel eyes were filled with pain and sorrow, his blond hair dirty and his uniform mussed; but still very attractive.

"Lt. Christopher Pike, I was filling in for a communications officer aboard the USS Kelvin when it was destroyed." Running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, Lt. Pike turned back to the cradle, gently touching the glass. "I was building a case against Winona, Line Theft at least, but I was really trying for coerced bond and pair interference." The baby held all of the Lt.'s attention so Jeremy tread very carefully.

"Line theft? Was George Kirk a member of any of the royals?" It would introduce an interesting array of problems if George Kirk wasn't as human as his records indicated.

"He was a Sheppard, the son of Dana Kirk nee Sheppard." Jeremy's pencil broke. "He was born on Atlantis, when we had spoken of bonding he had always said he wanted his children born on Atlantis like he was. But Neither were," Lt. Pike sighed, "there was no legal confirmation I could find that the Sheppard Clan approved of Winona's bonding to George, but I'm not a citizen of the Union, there was no way they were going to talk to me."

Jeremy Beckett blinked rapidly when Lt Pike brought his attention back to him, "That would be a basis at least for Line theft. There would be paperwork Captain Kirk had to file for right to birth on Atlantis," if the Lt was telling the truth this might turn into a huge political battle, and Sheppards fought to the death for their children.

"Perhaps," came Lt. Pike's voice, very soft, and once again directed at the incubator, "perhaps he simply didn't have the time." The voice didn't leave much to uncover, Pike didn't want to think he had been left to dry, ignored and neglected for a woman who by all accounts of her peers might not have been stable even before the Kelvin Massacre. Jeremy Beckett could feel the ache building up in his chest at the very idea that his bondmate would leave him, which was ludicrous, they had been together for years, but psionic bleed-off was a very real thing.

Regardless of whether George Kirk was willingly bound to Winona Kirk or not, because he was a Sheppard and a citizen of the Union it had to be brought before the Council of Nine. A quick dip into his office had a subspace communication window on his monitor and a request for the Union Citizenship Number. Inputting the correct numerals brought up the terminal he needed, and a video request to the Sheppard Clan. Only a moment or so later had a very disgruntled man on his screen.

"Greetings Elder Sheppard,"

"What do you want Beckett?" Jeremy stifled a grin at the abrupt and caustic manner of the man on the other end of the Video call. Many in the Union and the SGC clung to the overly formal manners that had sprung up as an off-shoot of diplomatic relations between nations and people groups, a useful tool to help ensure communication. Then again just as many hated the manners and did away with all but the most necessary in anything but formal situations. Members of the Sheppard Clan were well known to be friendly but blunt; it was their loyalty and determination that put the clan at the top of the social classes, not their diplomatic and political verve. "And it had better be good; I only just went to bed."

"I'm sorry Elder but the news is anything but good, will you acknowledge there is a son of the Sheppard Clan named George Kirk?" Jeremy watched closely as the Elder nodded.

"Yes, the son of Dana. He currently serves in the Starfleet I believe, he wanted an arena where he could shine as himself and not as another amazing member of the Sheppard Clan."

Swallowing, this was the hard part, "Does the clan have any record of his bonding or the production of heirs?" The elder shook his head.

"There is one note in his file from a meeting with the Sheppard Clan Mediator that he had professed finding his Anchor, a male he met at Academy and intended to lure him to the Union through the judicious use of Spaceships and really good whiskey." Jeremy gave a brief smile at the long-standing joke before he caught the Elder's eyes narrowing, "This was marked as unfulfilled nearing eight years ago and now you're asking confirmation and paperwork. What happened, Dr. Beckett?"

So Jeremy Beckett explained the whole thing: the massacre of the Kelvin, the birth of James Kirk, the suspected mental instability of Winona Kirk, the heartbroken man in his infirmary with a case for Pair interference. At the end, he was exhausted, the Elder was furious, and there was an open line to Starfleet Command and the highest Federation Court Judge the Sheppard Clan could get their hands on. All in all the makings of very uncomfortable coming days.

Or a very uncomfortable night as it turned out. Once Elder David Sheppard was up and awake, concerned about the possible loss and abuse of a member of his clan, there was no chance he wasn't going to get to the bottom of the issue. Which was how Dr. Jeremy Beckett, Lt. Christopher Pike, and the new born James Kirk, found themselves on the command bridge of the SGC Narcissus staring into the enlarged faces of Admiral Archer, Federation High Court Judge Tav Marceel, Union Supreme Justice Sona'ta Ye, Elder David Sheppard, and General Jack O'Neill. Most of the command crew was the epitome of focus and control going through their jobs like masters, but Jeremy could tell from the minute tremors and twitches that no one wanted to mess up under the eye of one of the founders of the Union.

General Jack O'Neill, like his Anchor Dr. Daniel Jackson, and many of the other founders of the Union who had obtained Ascension and stuck around, was viewed as a man no one wanted to piss off. Records of his daring and bravery from his first career with the SGC had become accessible to the public in the last century. Jeremy could only imagine the untold number of things this man had seen and done. CMO Beckett couldn't help but run through the list of vanquished enemies put an end to by this man and his team. There was no doubt that this was a man to follow into battle, no matter the cause. He had never left a man behind, and never left a sacrifice unrecognized. It was no surprise that he would take an interest in a custody trial for the sons of a sacrificed Atlantean military officer, who was possibly not with his wife of free will. It was very much something he was interested in.

"I do not appreciate being woken up before the second sun even rises on my planet! If this is over anything but a crime of the highest sort I will have all of you skinned to your bones and fed to a Lishkith!" The pale-blue skinned alien with his multitude of antenna ringing his face looked quite a bit like the carnivorous predator he wanted to feed the Union crew to, having had no time to preen before the video call went through.

To the right, a calm and placid, almost bored, response cut the High Court Judge Tav Marceel from winding up again. "Marceel, you've been making the same threat for the past twenty years, find a new one." Dr. Daniel Jackson, lounging in the background of General O'Neill's vid screen, mischievous smile crooked. "Or else someone might think you don't mean it." An insulted huff was all the response that Tav Marceel could give.

"As much as I love the verbal combat you boys get up to, I believe we have some rather serious accusations brought before us." That was the start, Admiral Archer was a hundred and thirty-eight years old, and he had not dragged his body out of his very comfortable bed to watch males in much better shape than he snipe at each other. No matter how much fun it was to watch and listen to. "What was the crime again David?"

Elder Sheppard sighed, "Pair-bond interference, line theft, and spousal abuse."

"All of which we may be able to prove, but to what end?" Tav Marceel leaned forward, placing his too big facial features well beyond the safe distance from the screen. Distorted, was the thought, and if the words coming out of his mouth were any indication, it wasn't just physical. "I propose right now that if the prosecution can prove these accusations against Officer Kirk that we keep this quiet. It is incredibly likely that Officer Kirk will not stay planet-side; we can impose joint custody between her and her parents as a precaution in case of child abuse brought on by PTSD. But George Kirk is dead, he cannot benefit from the pressing of charges against his widow, it would only sully the sacrifice he made."

"Marceel, you can't think-"

"Be reasonable man -"

"To cover it up!"

A riot was being induced by the alien now sitting very smugly back in his seat, "Come now. Be reasonable. It's been how many years of pair-bond interference? Eight? Surely if Captain Kirk's other half felt so slighted, we would have heard about it before. There is no man who exists to prove that George Kirk was an unwilling partner to Winona Kirk."

"I can." Christopher Pike showed no fear in the sight of the elite deciding his fate around him. "I followed George where ever he went without question, when he started acting out of character a few years ago I kept track. I had every intention of one day winning George back from whatever Winona had done to him. I have no reason not to use that information now to win custody of his sons." No fear, no shame, and whole lot of backbone. Christopher Pike looked like he would be making himself at home with George Kirk's family.

"No you won't." Tav MArceel said confidently, antenna twitching gently. "Not if you want to be able to take care of those boys. A Starfleet officer, dishonorably discharged for admitting to stalking, and seducing a commanding officer won't get you very far on any planet." General O'Neill was clearly not ready to give up the fight and was already conferring with Dr. Jackson about what could be done. Elder Sheppard was furious, to angry to speak, while Admiral Archer looked very very tired, and Justice Sona'ta Ye, who had yet to speak held thinly pressed lips together.

A light chuckle broke the somber atmosphere right before the voice did. "It was saturation addiction, and I have to admit that if Christopher Pike had ever attempted to seduce me, Winona wouldn't have lasted a day." George Kirk was on the bridge.

**- Part Two**

Chris was dazed. As much as he had dug in and made himself home in denial he hadn't expected his best friend and the love of his life to come back from the dead. Though, given the smiles, and outright grins on the majority of Union citizen's faces, it wasn't all that unusual for them. He reached out for him, just gently tracing the edge of his torn uniform, feeling the dirt and grit. He could smell the smoke, and almost as though called Chris could hear the sound of his friend's last moments. Grasping him tightly as he neared, Chris burrowed into the safest place he had ever found, his best friend's arms, unwilling to let go, or even think about letting go of either of the males in his arms. His boys, Chris would never let his boys go again.

The baby smelt like talcum powder and spice. That spice was all George, heat and burn that Chris had always remembered from their one night together. Holding the infant in his arms with George wrapped around him, whispering assurances, Chris wished he never had to move, but the rising rumble of voices in the background foretold the ending of their moment. "Hold on to James, Chris. Let me handle this and I promise you'll never have to let either of us go again." Chris didn't have to hear that twice, cradling the infant in his arms close to his heart the baby didn't move. He couldn't help but protectively shield his son from the gaze of the elite, from the gaze of the crew, from everyone that wasn't him or George. Their son. Their eyes. Only.

George stood in the line of sight between his small family and the elite. "I do not appreciate your … editing of events Judge Marceel." Kirk smirked, "but please allow me to give you mine. After it became obvious that the USS Kelvin required manual piloting to engage the enemy space craft, I elected to stay on board while all the other evacuation shuttles were put in use. Having driven the USS Kelvin into the enemy space craft and lost communication with the shuttles I became aware that there was a miniscule chance that in the blast I would survive in an Evacuation pod. I took the chance and survived to be picked up by the SGC Narcissus, and it was while I was in medical that CMO Beckett detected an undesirable substance in my blood."

"Whereupon a council was called for both Union representatives and Federation representatives to reign on the custody of James and Samuel Kirk, and the crimes of Winona Kirk." Dr. Jackson filled in, just as gleeful as George, at the 'edited' report of events.

Tav Marceel flailed, literally, his antenna went every which way in his stupefaction, "You cannot mean to tell me that you intend on leaving out your ascension?!" There was money in the study of ascension, Chris knew. Between the prolongment of life and the limitless possibilities of the manipulation of matter, it was one of those cultural facets that the Atlanteans didn't share with anyone, not even their allies in the Union. If the Federation got proof that George Kirk had ascended, it was entirely possible that he would spend the rest of his life in a five-by-five lab cell. Chris wasn't going to let that happen, he had just gotten George back.

"What ascension Judge? Dr. Beckett and I called you hear to oversee the criminal charges against Winona Kirk, nothing else." Chris shot a matching smirk to his partner, it wasn't even a lie.

General O'Neill snorted.

"I will authorize the arrest of one Winona Kirk on two accounts of Line Theft, one count of bond coercion, and one count of pair bond interference." Justice Sona'ta Ye, an older Jaffa male, finally interrupted. "You will send me all your data Lt. Pike?"

Chris agreed, "Of course, sir. I'll send you all the records I have." Chris turned hesitant, catching George's frown. The man had turned to him, his back to the elite, his brow furrowed and his gaze distant.

"I remember a civil service, and paperwork. But it's not a legal bonding ceremony without paperwork from the Clan being filed with the Union." A vicious glint came into his eye, "It's possible she was never legally a Kirk."

Vicious was the grin on Admiral Archer's face, "Which would tally up an account of identity theft and masquerading as an officer onto her as well." rubbing his hands together and chuckling darkly Admiral Archer gave every appearance of planning nefarious things. "Oh, I like the way you think boy. I like the way you think."

Justice Sona'ta Ye must have agreed with Admiral Archer because a disturbing type of smile crossed the stern Jaffa's face. "I will keep in contact with you Captain Kirk, to ensure that everything goes smoothly." A simple blink, interference from subspace frequencies, and both Admiral Archer's and Justice Sona'ta Ye's video calls ended. The lack of fanfare was made up by the tantrum Judge Tav Marceel was throwing.

His antennas were rattling, and his complexion was turning a startling shade of purple. He was yelling and shaking, shouting, though the communications officer for the bridge had muted him once the alien had started questioning the legality of birth for the founding members of the Union. It was embarrassing, Chris thought, that a grown political leader could tip into unbecoming behavior so fast. Which spurred another thought. Spinning, but still careful with the baby in his arms, Chris pinned the Communications Officer to his desk with a steely stare. "Have you been taping Judge Marceel?"

The officer shook his head; still pinned it changed direction, and then changed direction again. "Man, just answer the damn question!" Elder Sheppard had clearly reached the end of his rope. The communications officer was pale, very pale, when he answered

"ye-yes, sir" Chris gave a decided nod.

"good."


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings**: Angst, Crazy ass Winona, and certain scenes at the bottom may imply an irreverence for life, child neglect or child abuse

**Chapter Two**

Christopher Pike was in shock, George was alive. Alive, sane, and finally out from under the control of Winona. Chris waited as they were led to the conference room off to the side of the bridge. He plopped his ass into one of the chairs as the vid-call from Atlantis continued.

"What an asshole." Elder O'Neill shot out.

"Love, I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to call Intergalactic Justices assholes." There was a huff, "Yes, Jack. Especially when they are one." Apparently several centuries together and partners really could end up reading each other's minds. Especially if you had Atlantean genetics, they changed the laws of physics all the time.

Which would be very helpful to Chris right about now, being able to read his partner's mind. He couldn't take his eyes off the man he loved. George walked from one end of the room to the other, slowly and methodically rocking James. Chris couldn't keep his eyes off the pair and it took two calls of his name before he answered Dr. Beckett.

"What?"

"There are a certain number of tests I need to take before you and Captain Kirk can put Baby Sheppard to bed." His brow wrinkled and his hands trembled lightly.

"What kind of tests?" He wasn't touching the claim that James was _Baby Sheppard_. It just remind Chris that there was more than eight years and an illegal wife standing between him and a working relationship with the man of his dreams.

"Normal ones," Jeremy Beckett replied with a smile. He placed his pad down on the table top before reaching for the baby. A snort escaped the normally proper lieutenant as the medical doctor had to pry the fingers of the stalwart Starfleet officer from the swaddled baby. "Height, weight, and blood were taken on the shuttle by Dr. Heben'gi. I'll run the test tomorrow and get back to you concerning any post-natal concerns or complications." 

The medical doctor spoke the entire time he held the baby. Every time he moved the sleeping infant and changed where he touched, Jeremy Beckett spoke first. He didn't make any sudden movements or take any type of test or sample that he didn't explain first. And Chris, who didn't even have a legal claim on the baby, or the father, was grateful for the sudden bout of verbal diarrhea that the physician was suffering from. Chris could have been kicked from the room, George Kirk didn't have to pick up right where they left off. With two bundles of joy, and an inter-alliance custody battle, George Kirk _couldn't_ pick up right where they left off.

With the testing finished and their little underweight bundle of joy remarkably unhurt by his early arrival, the two Starfleet Officers were directed to an empty officer's quarters. Cramped, these quarters were designed with utility and efficiency in mind, not comfort. There was a surprisingly soft bed backed between the two corners of the room farthest from the door. The visible seams of hidden drawers were patterned on the wall, but they were dismissed, there was nothing to put in them. There was a small washroom attached with sonic showers, a cramped toilet, and a tiny sanitization station. But that was it, a tiny slice of heaven as far as Chris was concerned. So long as George wanted him, he would be more than happy to stay.

He was trying not to think about why he was sharing rooms with George. Trying not to let the last sight of the explosion repeat on loop behind his eyes. It wasn't working. All Chris could see was the brilliant explosion, all he could hear, heartbreaking, was George's conversation with Winona, on the name of their son. James, after her father, and Tiberius, after his. The child in his arms, exhausted from wiggling around, was sleeping, or unconscious more like, completely unmoving and trusting with all of his fragile little body that they would take care of him. As if they could do anything less.

Fingertips dragged up his spine. A palm smoothed over his shoulder, cupping the joint. He tried not to tremble, but it had been soo long. They edged the side of his collar, rubbing circles into the side of his neck. Breath followed, heating the skin, and Chris could just imagine the lips that would follow, the moist tongue that would unravel him.

It was like it was eight years ago. They had shared a set of rooms, as seniors and command track cadets they didn't have to share, but by that point Chris and George had lived out of each other's back pockets since meeting freshman year. Chris would sit down to study late in the evening, and George, who had an eidetic memory and rarely needed to study, would let him work for a while, always precisely long enough to get through the majority of the information. Then he would start to move closer. George would go from across the room to right next to him. From a warm body on his bed, to heat pressed against his side. There would be fingers, trailing up his side, over his arm. Followed by breath, then a tongue, then...

But it wasn't eight years ago, and they weren't senior cadets. There was an eight year gap between Chris and his best friend shaped like a woman named Winona. Chris had a choice to make. They could pick up where they left off, pretending nothing ever happened. But his heart hurt. Chris could feel the arms around him, he could smell James, feel his soft skin, but all he could do was hurt. Hurt in a gasping manner that had led to long lonely nights where precious memories hurt more when remembered in bed, than in the morning.

How could he tell George no? Eight years on both sides with a painful desire to reclaim lost ground. A furor clamored for physical touch, to ensure they were tied together as tightly as possible. A niggling in the back of his mind that tempted, once the bond was set they could yell and shout and hit as much as they wanted. But don't let him leave, not again.

Chris was sure of only two things. One: he loved the two males in the room more than he ever thought possible. And two: he wouldn't survive it if George walked away from him again. Chris knew, he just wouldn't be able to fight anymore, he'd give up. The last thing he wanted to do, but the most likely to happen. The question remained, for the chance at belonging to George Kirk once again, was he willing to jump straight in? Chris didn't have an answer before those teasing fingertips met the junction of his shoulder and neck, but even as the familiar kiss was pressed to his shoulder, he knew there was something different.

George didn't try anything more, simply laid his head against Chris's shoulder and breathed. Took one deep breath, held it, and let it go. Simply existing from one moment to the next. He hurt, hurt in a way that he didn't know how to deal with. He didn't know where to go from here.

He felt the deep breath Chris took, how he let it out and took another. Then Chris repeated it, the sound of his heart beat slowing with every deep breath he took. Even though life had turned upside down again, and George had very little for point of reference, he knew there was no sound better than the beat of Chris's heart, and if he could hear his baby in the background snuffling against his love's chest, well, there honestly wasn't a better sound.

But the silence stretched between them; created by a crazy woman and a powerful cocktail of chemicals. They both sat on the bed trying to find the words to bridge the gap between them, eight years in the making. James sprawled beside them, his soft sniffles the only counterpoint to the pounding hearts tightening the atmosphere. It wasn't until a knock at the hatch jolted them from their standstill.

George stood to get the hatch, meeting CMO Beckett on the other side. He shut the opening behind him as he met the doctor.

"I can tell just from your face that interrupting was a good idea." George snorted frustratingly.

"Interrupting? Interrupting, what? An angry hurt filled silence that neither one of us know how to fill or fix." He slumped against the bulkhead, running hands through his short cropped hair. "I want to do this right, Beckett. But, I have no idea where to begin."

Beckett hummed as he though the situation over. What best to help the man in front of him. "There are specialists in the City who help with bond damage and distrust between pairs." The medical doctor shrugged, "it's mostly damage from contact with Wraith, mind control and hallucinations. Which, on second thought isn't that far from what you're suffering. You may want to think about taking some time off from Starfleet to try and heal in the City."

"In the meantime," Beckett handed him a small bottle with a thickened creamy liquid in it, flipping the cover back to show him the soft neo-skin medical nipple attached to the top. "This is for James, he should be waking up soon to eat, it contains Union approved supplements for a premi and a space-born baby." Beckett shrugged, "As for the other, it's been eight years. During that time you've both done things and went places that you wouldn't have, if it weren't for Winona. Maybe you should start over?"

It sounded like a good idea to George and he thanked the fellow Atlantean before spinning on his heel and heading back into the officer's quarters. A plan just starting to bloom; he entered and went straight to the replicator. When he was finished, George settled further back on the bed, back to the head board and gestured Chris to do the same.

Chris took his time, ensuring the bottle wasn't going to go bad, and that the baby settled in the mobile crib wasn't going anywhere, before he sat on the bed facing George. He was handed a steaming mug, and with surprise on his features Chris listened to his best friend.

"This was how our entire relationship started, remember? An argument the evening of a command recruitment event over the merits of mulled hard cider." George smiled absently, "You had been impressive even then, broad shoulders and lean hips, an easy smile and a free opinion. Douglas Casey had been trying so hard to win you to his command team, even then he had known quality." George laughed a little and Chris finally smiled.

"He had been badgering me all night about pre-arranging command pairs, handing me glass after glass of that fucking awful wine." Chris swirled the heated mug in his hand, the memories rising much more gently then they normally would. "And fifteen minutes before we have to hand in our priority votes you walk over to me with two glasses of mulled cider, and toasted to me, wishing us a strong career and a stalwart command. What was I supposed to do except take the offer?" A smile breaks over his face, turning to the man beside him, trying to match the face in his memory with the weary sorrowful man sitting on the bed.

George turned so he kept Chris's eye, "when I offered you that mug twelve years ago I was following old Atlantean etiquette. Ale is for comrades to wash the taste of blood away, wine is for the seduction of lovers, and water is for children to grow up strong. But cider, cider is for friends, the best of friends. Made from apples because you're sharing the surplus. Mulled, so your life always has spice. And fermented, to show that life is hard and you can get through it." George raised is mug to clink with Chris's.

"I love you." The older male said simply, without art or deception. "There are not enough ways to say or show it that would ever find the depth of my love for you." Chris nearly stopped breathing, "but we're both hurt and we've got some broken pieces. So I want you to know I trust you and I love you, but you were never my lover for the sake of having a lover. You were -are- my best friend, and when we took that to the next level it was because we were best friends first. I want that back."

Chris took a sip of the mulled cider and leaned back, "so no touching?"

George snorted, "Like we could keep our hands to ourselves?" Chris smirked. "No, we can touch. But I want my partner and comrade before I want a lover." George took a deep breath, this next part was going to hurt. "And if – if we decide we can't get that chemistry right, I can live with that. So long as you're there."

Chris was stunned, they were both highly active and physical guys, and here George was saying that he'd be willing to live, fight, and die beside him even if he couldn't love beside him. Swallowing the last of the mulled cider, Chris thought on what he wanted out of life. What he wanted from George. Walking over to the replicator, Chris obtained his order and walked back to the bed with two glasses of wine. Looking straight into George's eyes Chris said, "I'm hurt and I'm angry at you, at me, at Winona, at Starfleet."

He breathed deeply, always deeply. "But I'm not willing to let you go. I'm not willing to see you in another's bed. So we are going to sit on this uncomfortable bed, with _our son_ beside us, we are going to drink this disgusting wine, and then you are going to hold me as we sleep. Because I am not letting you go, and I'm not letting you let me go."

George stared, he had never seen his paired so determined. It was clear his Chris had learned to do without him. A gentle smile crossed his lips, he loved Christopher Pike, and he loved him even more when he stood his ground against George's grand gesture.

A cry broke the silence and immediately gained the attention of both men. Unconscious was the decision both men agreed to; that for all the problems they had going on, their son came first.

"Is his name really James?" Chris asked with a grimace.

George blinked, James wasn't an awful name. There were definitely worse. He had a cousin named Dudley, which was just wrong. "What's wrong with James?"

Chris couldn't get the grimace off his face. The harder he tried, the more upset he got. The baby cried as Chris's hands got overly tight. Gentling his grasp this despaired, "Why are you naming our son after her father?"

"Oh baby, don't get so worked up, her father's name isn't James." There was laughter in George's voice.

"James was the name of the Patriarch of the Sheppard clan who voted to allow me to attend and serve in Starfleet. We have other options, though we should be careful. The Mediator and claims leader has been known to allow the ridiculous just so certain member would learn to listen to them.

Chris snorted, some people were just stupid. Clan mediators existed to guide their family members in decisions that will not disgrace the clan. "That's not the brightest thing in the world, dismissing the Clan's advice."

George laughed a little, pulling Chris toward him, careful not to disturb the baby. "They aren't always the most shining examples of Atlantean culture." The pause was tense and Chris held back, "CMO Beckett made a suggestion that I want to share with you." A deep breath, "We know we can't get over this on our own, we need help. The Clan would support our fight against Winona and with the boys."

Chris turned to watch George, "You want to leave Starfleet?"

George shook his head, "I don't want to leave, but the Clan will give us the support we need, and it is possible to take a mental health leave. Likelihood is that all the survivors of the USS Kelvin will get mental health leave. I'm just suggesting we take it on Atlantis."

**Part 2**

Dr. Amanda Greyson looked down at the bundle of blanket in her arms. The flesh exposed was flushed an allover green, the little body flopped almost uncontrollably while little lungs panted for breath. As calmly as she could, Amanda walked into her husband's office, "Husband, I believe the child is ill. Perhaps we should call for Doctor Heish?"

Sarek stood sedately from behind his desk and approached his wife. Taking the infant, Sarek supported the neck and head with one hand while the lower limbs rested against his forearm. He observed the symptoms that could be seen in the child. There was an overwhelming green flush, a lassitude in mobility, with a slow pulse. "Amanda will you call Doctor Heish and inform him we are coming in?"

Keeping the child secure in his hand, Sarek approached the foyer of the house, calling for the car. Flipping his comm unit open Sarek paged his eldest son, "Sibon, Amanda and I are taking the infant back to the Vulcan Science Academy." That was all that was logically necessary.

There was silence in the car on the trip back to the very building they had just left yesterday. There had been some risk involved in genetically engineering offspring. The geneticists and biologists of the Vulcan Science Academy had approached the project calculating every advantage to encode in the child. Then after birth, the infant had stayed under supervision for several months to ensure that the nature of mixing the genes had not created an unviable life form. Which was why this episode of ill health was so puzzling, the child had passed all the tests in the sterile environment of the Vulcan Science Academy. Sarek was concerned about how this would affect Amanda, his wife had a much softer heart than should be shown and while he had taken in several minors suitable for fostering by the House Surak, none had given her the pleasure he had felt through their bond that this infant had. It would hit his wife very hard if this child were unviable.

Taking measure of the child as they entered the laboratory Sarek noted the continually decreasing heart rate. "Heish, the child has a temperature of 35.833 degrees standard, his pulse is 116 beats per minute." Heish acknowledged the data points and took the child from his parents. Walking back to the monitors and technicians awaiting their subject, Heish gave minimal directions. His colleagues were the best in their field, there was no reason to permit anyone less into the cross-breeding project. It was after all the only legal project of its kind a dedicated commitment of the House Surak.

The testing went long as samples were taken from the infant to determine what sort of hazards he had come into contact with. Ruling out poisons, toxins, and venoms, a virologist was consulted. Had the infant come into contact with something that they had not taken into account? It was seemingly impossible, they had engineered every particle of this child of House Surak to be dominantly Vulcan. This was the heir of the preeminent Vulcan of House Surak, regardless of its genetic disadvantage the child would have to be a pristine specimen.

The seats were hard, such physical discomforts were beyond those who religiously practiced the philosophy of Surak, but it could not be appreciated by Amanda. She clung to every little glimpse she got of her son. The rooms were unusually cold for buildings on Vulcan, but the sterile nature of the cool temperature made it favored in the science laboratories. All she could think was that the impersonal indelicate nature of the scientific procedure could not be comfortable for her baby boy, and the next Vulcan who made a comment about the overly emotional responses of humans was going to find out how overly emotional a human mother could get.

Amanda had watched as scientist after scientist came and went with pieces of her child. She watched as his temperature climbed and his pulse lowered. She watched as expert after expert were consulted for the treatment of her son. Amanda did not notice the increasing number of members of House Surak that had gathered in the observation deck. She did not care to notice her surroundings except to acknowledge the stoic presence of her husband.

Amanda was the first one to see Doctor Ke'mar in the laboratory speaking closely with Doctor Heish. And that was just not acceptable. She wasn't waiting for an invitation, Amanda was not letting that foul diseased male near her son, living or dead. Barging into the sterile room so fast her husband's head spun, Amanda headed straight for the Doctors private conversation. And made it just in time to intercept Ke'mar from picking up her son.

If it was one thing she had learnt while in Vulcan it was how to wield their telepathy against them. Funneling the bitterness and anger she tried very hard to hide from her husband each day to the forefront of her mind. She didn't reach out, she didn't grasp, and she didn't wield it. Amanda let her pain and disappointment fester in her mind as she held her hands, fingers straight and palm flat out in front of her, hitting the backs of Doctor Ke'mar's hands as he reached onto the laboratory table, simply deflecting them away.

"I do not want that male touching my son." Amanda stood in front of the medical bed and laboratory table her son lay on.

The Doctors blinked, visibly stunned for probably the first time in their lives. Heish and Ke'mar were not unusual in their physical appearance. Both had the slanted brows, black hair, and pointed ears of Vulcans. They did not deviate from social expectation in the cut of their hair, or the drape of their robes. They were not colorful and everything was precisely in its place. In fact the only thing, or person in this case, out of place in the entire room was Amanda.

Amanda knew Ke'mar only from reputation. He was a biologist who was authorized by the Vulcan Science Academy to study and prepare reports on the flawed outcome and failures of the cross-breeding experiments. Though she had never met him, Amanda knew that this was the scientist who had ended up with the first four failed trials in Amanda and Sarek's attempt to get pregnant. And now this male wanted her son. Which was not going to happen.

"That is illogical Doctor Greyson. By the authority of the Vulcan Science Academy all unviable results from the cross-breeding project are to go to Doctor Ke'mar for further research and testing. There is no reason to become emotional over the offspring."

Amanda out right scowled at the caustic words coming from Doctor Heish. Her son was not a research subject and he was not unviable. Shooting a quick glance over her shoulder, first to ensure her son was still breathing and second to check the support of her husband. "It is unacceptable that you have not made every attempt to help my son."

The corners of Heish's lips and eyes tightened a minute amount and if he weren't Vulcan, Amanda was sure he would have been sighing or screaming, or both. "It is illogical to expend valuable resources on a futile effort. The child is unviable, it will die."

Amanda left the Doctors, and the adults of House Surak, one line before she bundled her son up to take him home. She was not willing to leave him in the hands of scientists who wanted his body for research. Regardless of whether or not her husband supported her, she was not a slave in her spouse's house and refused to act like one any longer. She had a career waiting and resources beyond their expectation.

As Amanda left the building, her son in her arms, her voice echoed: "He's still breathing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"We should eat dinner in the galley tonight." Chris choked. If he hadn't been holding the baby, who was still way more active than was natural for two day olds, over the sanitization station Chris might have thrown something at his partner. This just meant that George Kirk was still as sly and calculating as ever. He was after all the one who had suggested the bath for the baby. Not that Chris could argue the point it was valid, they needed to be seen outside their cabin. The survivors needed to see George, to know he was real, and possibly to start healing. But just because it was a valid and logical argument didn't mean Chris had to like it, it wasn't like he was a Vulcan or anything.

Chris couldn't respond, regardless of how efficient the diaper was, it had to be on the baby for it to work. Turning his back on his partner Chris focused intently on the baby giggling on the sanitization station table. Not even just because he didn't like the idea of failing George, but because until further notice this was his son, and he was going to do this right. Grasping James's ankles, gently, Chris smoothed the vitamin enriched cream into the infant's skin. He lay his son down on the thin super-absorbent material of the diaper. Calm breathing, Chris thought, James will mirror you, be calm. Amazingly, it worked, James slowed down and Chris was able to finish with the new diaper.

Catching a look at what very little evidence was left in the old diaper Chris does a double-take. "Wow, what do they make these out of? Certainly not the same thing they use on Earth."

George laughed, moving away from the entrance way of the sanitization station. "It's a micro-level absorbent, thinned and layered. It comes from MiYu. Interestingly enough, it's also used in medical absorbents and as the first layer in all Union-issued armor."

Chris blinked, "diaper absorbent?!" George burst out laughing, most had that reaction upon finding out what else the micro-level absorbent was used in. "Diaper absorbent in armor?"

"Come on, is it really that startling? A first layer of absorbent soaks up blood or sweat, smart really. Or are you just used to Earth's cotton?" taking the clothed baby from his dumbfounded partner George cuddled the hyper active bundle of joy. Directing his attention to his son, "You're gonna be a handful aren't you? Gonna drive Papa and Daddy up the wall?" It was the silence that clued George in that he said something that they hadn't spoken about yet. Something he took for granted, that Chris would want to raise his sons with him. That Chris would want any children.

Spinning around George saw the shocked look. George didn't even know what to say in the face of that big a blunder, didn't know how to make this right. It wasn't a hypothetical, wasn't an 'if', wasn't even a 'sometime in the future'. Because of Winona, George Kirk had two sons: a newborn and a four year old and because of Winona again, one was a Federation citizen and the other was Union citizen. George was still working out how to legally kidnap his eldest son, change his citizenship, and leave no legal loopholes for Winona's lawyer to crawl through. Instead, he hasn't even fully reached agreement with his Paired to move to Atlantis, at least for a little while, and now he drops the big fat reminder that he has children who aren't Chris's, and he does so in front of his face. "Chris, I-"

"No." George wilted. His heart stuttered, and breath froze in his lungs at Chris's denial. "Just, n-no?" He didn't even want to scream, he had promised his Paired that if the only thing he could have of Chris was platonic companionship then it would be okay. George would learn to hold each moment frozen.

Immediately, George's mind started running in circles of custody papers and citizenship requirements and Legacy Trusts. Who from the Clan or the board of Elders would be best situated for helping Sam and James as they grew? George was determined his sons, regardless of how they came to exist, would be credits to the Clan. He might have to follow Chris for a while, show him the benefits of the Union over the Federation. Perhaps fall back on Plan A, seduce his Paired with spaceships. It worked for most previous members of the Sheppard Clan. George was positive given enough time his Paired would realize the best thing for them was being on Atlantis. And if he never wanted parental rights, well then George would make sure they never forgot that the Clan loved them, that he loved them.

Chris was still watching his two boys and he saw George shut down. Saw him clutch, gently always gently, James to his chest. And he cursed at his poor timing, at the speed with which George's mind worked, if it was just a mite slower Chris might have been able to finish his thought. Stepping close, and pulling George, and James, closer still Chris breathed in their breath. "No, I'm not sharing you tonight. We can go out to get our meal and tell everyone we're alright, but I am not sharing my boys with anyone tonight."

Again George's heart stuttered, absentmindedly he noted that he would have to arrange to speak with one of the Ascended Elders about physiological mistakes made during re-materialization. "Your boys?"

Forehead to forehead they touched, as close as they could possibly get to one another with clothes still on. James gently crushed between them, always gently, mouthing lightly on the fabric of Chris's shirt. "I told you I'm not letting you go, and I'm not above manipulating our sons to do it." A moment, "Besides we've been making reference to custody battles, diaper responsibilities, and advanced lesson plans all day. It's not my fault it only just occurred to you now that you never asked me."

A huffed breath pressed against Chris's lips. "Let me change that: Will you, Christopher Pike, agree to assume guardianship of George Samuel and James Tiberius Kirk? No stipulations, no incentives, no compromises. You agree to put their needs and safety before your own?"

Breath kissing back Chris took on the same solemn whisper George had, even the ever-excited baby James was content to continue drooling on his fathers, the quietest they had heard him. "I do."

A deeper breath, still a solemn whisper, still sharing air, "Do you, Christopher Pike of Federation Aligned Earth, agree to a Pairing Arrangement? Will you allow I, George John Kirk of Atlantis, a member of the Union of Stargate Protectorate Planets, to meet with you on common ground in the hopes that as you Anchor me, I may provide you with sails?"

For all the seriousness of the situation, Chris still gently laughed. The overly poetic language that Union citizens, especially Atlanteans, adopted in formal situations was always funny to Chris, given their almost rudely blunt honesty and no shit attitude at any other time. But no language barrier was going to keep Christopher Pike from the family he should have always belonged to. "I will."

After that, nerve racking anticipation and nauseating miscommunication, dinner should be no problem.

**Part 2**

On Earth the phrase was 'worth their weight in gold', originating in the ancient custom of ransoming a Greek or Roman general for their weight in gold. Amanda Greyson was sure after she was done with the Vulcan Science Academy that they would say she was worth her weight in water; because she was sucking everything they had to give out of them. There would be no one of worth left standing after she got done with them.

Amanda had plans to proceed with but upon entering the main residential building of House Surak in ShiKahr she found the entire household arranged in the foyer of the entrance. Pushing her way through the crowd of security, house staff, and business aides Amanda found her husband's first son waiting at the base of the stairs. "Sibon, what is the explanation for this?"

Sibon was as Sarek's son from his first marriage. In addition to Sibon, Sarek had taken to foster three other young male Vulcans; but with the others Amanda had to wonder what Sarek thought he would accomplish. These were not males who would have ever needed a mother, all fairly mature by the time theirs was gone, and they would never accept a human woman. These males had never made her feel needed and she had never felt comfortable in their presence. If Sarek had been trying to find a release for her biological clock so that he wouldn't have to deal with the VSA's cross-breeding project, he had failed. If it was her husband's intention to extend their clan name to three other immaculate representatives of Surak's philosophy then he definitely succeeded.

"Sarek called to inform the household what had been the prognosis on the … experiment." Amanda's eyes tightened, not quite glaring, but nowhere near friendly. She had lived for many years as a liaison between Vulcans and Humans, clearing up miscommunications and accidental offenses. In that position she had often seen that the Vulcan's overly specific vocabulary was a contention among humans who heard a lack of empathy in the alien's words. Now, however, Amanda did not have the compassion in reserve to hear empathy where she was certain there was none.

"I see. And did he expound on the … platform of House Surak in this trying time?"

Sibon did not move a muscle, the members of his House would laud the young male's control over emotional response. The House Surak would never admit to it, but Amanda Greyson was a scary and intimidating woman. "It is the ruling of Elder T'Pau, under whose guidance House Surak is lead, that the expenditure of resources to save the life of a failed experiment does not balance."

For one instant all Amanda Greyson wanted to do was hit someone, or scream, screaming would have been good. It was in her experience that Vulcans really had no idea what to do with an emotional being. Instead Amanda used all of her political training and familiarity with Vulcans to come down hard on her knee-jerk reaction. So she leaned back and caught the eye of her husband's son, "Don't you think it's hypocritical of you to follow Surak's teachings, which say that to honor life, then all life must be held sacred?"

Spinning Amanda confronted her husband, who had just walked in, "Why is my son's life not sacred? What empirical proof could you possibly provide that would show that my son is worth less than any other?"

Sarek stepped forward, drawing the complete attention of his irrational wife. "There is a reason that tradition does not name a Vulcan child until a year has passed, there is a high mortality rate among Vulcan infants, even now." The ambassador said lightly, as though without investment in the conversation. "Amanda, the child is already dying. There is no respect in the prolonging death. Let the child go. If you desire a child so strongly we will try again, perhaps by understanding where we failed with this one the other might live longer."

Sarek had said the wrong thing, a human mother, a real mother would never stop trying to save her child. Amanda would not do less than anything to save her son. If Amanda had even been tempted by the idea of easing the pain of her little one, her husband's words dug her trench for her. Her back stiffened, her chin came up and her eyes glittered with determination. "The use of every possible resource at our fingertips to try to save this son, my Spock, is a Nonnegotiable Clause. Are you In Contempt with this?"

There was stunned silence. Vulcan had grown too far away from the emotive species they shared space with. They couldn't understand the driving need Amanda had to try every eventuality in an attempt to save the life of her son. There were divorces in modern Vulcan society, though usually spurred by a branching of desires between spouses. Because Vulcans are not proponents of emotion, but rather logic, it was easy to break their shallow mental bonds. Even those bonds created during Pon Farr, like Sarek and Amanda's, were brittle and easily broken. Most rulings for divorce were approved, the bond broken, and the spouses went their separate ways, free of each other but not restricted from each other.

Only one divorce protocol was eternal. A holdover from pre-reform Vulcan, a Nonnegotiable and In Contempt Divorce meant that the spouses had found an issue over which it was possible they would kill each other. In an effort not to carry the death of their once partner with them for always, one partner would issue the Nonnegotiable clause. In Amanda's case the Nonnegotiable clause was the expenditure of resources in an attempt to save the life of her son. Then the other partner would have the opportunity to compromise or change opinion, if they did not then they decried they were In Contempt of the Clause and would no longer recognize the other as their partner. Each would go on their way, their marriage and bond annulled.

Sarek was stunned. He had not seen that coming, could not have predicted that his wife felt that strongly of the life of the failed experiment. It was irrational to be that attached and illogical to imbalance the affairs of the House for one infant. So Sarek said the one thing he felt he could, "I am In Contempt of the Clause." There was a moment of silence. Most in the building, watching the debacle were stunned that Amanda would go so far as to divorce her husband.

"You will abide by the pre-nuptial agreement? That any research, papers, credits, or contacts made during our marriage remain mine and that neither you nor House Surak will attempt to claim any of it?"

"So long as it is agreed you will not seek recompense for the annulment of our marriage?" Sarek rejoined. Amanda did agree and the divorce was witnessed by Elder T'Pau and the majority of House Surak. After gathering her work items, minimal person effects, and some infant care items a car was called to take Amanda to the shuttle terminals. By the time she hit the shuttle terminals and bought tickets on the next ship leaving Vulcan, Amanda was no longer upset. She was still angry that her husband would not stand for his son, but there was nothing she could do about that. She would log a complaint against the VSA for inhumane experimental techniques and procedures. Hopefully, incredulity alone would drive someone to validate or invalidate the report.

Amanda was not sad to go. She had done the right thing and was saving her son. She didn't look back either. There was nothing left for her on Vulcan.

**Part 3**

The galley on the SGC Narcissus was on the third of four levels and near the middle of the ship, regardless of the centralized location and the clear layout of halls and walkways it took Chris and George a long time to actually get to the eating hall. The crew of the Narcissus were complete professionals, even if their eyes followed the small family's backs as they passed, there were no inappropriate comments, no threatening or frightened movements.

Chris chalked it up to the Narcissus being a Union vessel. The Union of Stargate Protectorate Planets had more than their fair share of heroes and saviors. The military arm of the Union, the Stargate Command, was well known for pulling off the impossible and saving the day in the eleventh hour. It was a significant part of the tension between Starfleet and Stargate Command.

The Union of Stargate Protectorate Planets had been founded against the Ori, an immaterial species of beings capable of manipulating matter and drawing energy from those who worshipped them. The Ori travelled through the Milky Way Galaxy like a plague leaving destruction and devastation in their wake. So the Stargate Command, then stationed on Earth and charged with the security of that one planet, authorized a series of talks between several of their longest lasting alliances and most power allies. They devised a strategy to undermine and eventually destroy the Ori. After the enemy was defeated those planets and peoples whose homes were destroyed received as much aide as they needed in order to get themselves back on their feet. That was the start of the Union. After the consolidation of the Federation only a few decades later, what had started as a loose alliance became a strongly centralized and federal organization that protected, provided, and guided the groups under their care.

Vulcan heavily influenced the political movement for a primarily pacifistic Federation, pushing the Stargate Command and Union culture from Earth almost entirely. The day the signing of the Federation was enacted over 2.4 billion people left Earth for the people and organization that had supported and protected the planet for decades before Vulcan science and Orion pleasure arts. Chris couldn't blame them, politics on earth in those days was vastly different than it is today. In a society where governments told their citizens to fend for themselves, the SGC had believed that because they had the power to protect, they had the obligation to protect. It became very clear during the negotiation of the Federation that people were a lot more loyal to the SGC than to their planet.

That was the difference though, Union culture meant George and he could walk down the hallway and see respect and courage reflected in the eyes of those around them. When they walked through the hatchway of the galley the difference was clear. A dozen service members from the U.S.S. Kelvin stood and stared. Looking as though they couldn't decide if they wanted to run toward George or away from him. Complete silence that lasted only long enough for Winona not-Kirk to throw herself out of her chair near the opening and sob into George's shirt. Or at least she tried to.

George had no intention of ever touching Winona again and he certainly didn't approve of her in contact with his son. So he shifted, just a small amount, back only a half-step and raising his arms so that a giggling baby James could swing his feet and completely miss Winona's touch. The fact that she ended up on the floor was an unanticipated windfall. The fact that it halted everyone else in the eatery was also really nice. Chris didn't want any confusion as to George and Winona' relationship.

Winona was on the floor at his feet and she was glaring up at him, knowing or simply suspecting that he had something to do with this failure. He couldn't resist, "You thought you had it all figured out. That you would have him forever, but you forgot I had him first." Chris crouched down within her personal space, "I never gave him to you Winona, and I was always gonna take him back. Now I have him, James, and soon I'll have Sam as well."

Winona had never appeared to be a violent woman, though if she was willing to use chemicals to keep a man by her side there were clearly unmapped depths to her. So when she sprung at him fingers hooked to claw at his throat and face, Chris staggered back unprepared for the savage attack. She threw him down to the floor beating on him, snarling about "disgusting filth", "defiling her George", "at least her Sam knew better", and finally as she was being dragged away from Chris she caught sight of James.

"What will you teach him, Filth?" she spat, "At least I would have taught him he wore another man's face!"

And that was the end of it for George, getting up in Winona's face was relatively easy now. She was being restrained by several of the off duty SGC Marines, big buff military men who had jumped to defend one of their own. "Being rescued from that evac pod was the best thing that ever happened to me. CMO Beckett found the chemical saturation you used to manipulate me Winona Nimh, and he flushed them out." Glaring at her furious and flushed face George found closure, "James is not me, he is not wearing or borrowing or using my skin, he has his own. And I will make sure he never has to admit that you gave him life." Directing his attention to the Marines, while walking back to help his Paired. "Get her out of my sight!"

Chris really wanted to see Winona dragged from the galley by her hair, he'd fantasized about her splitting from George too many times. He had ensured he got his piece in but still missed the end of the confrontation. As soon as he was clear of Winona Dr. Heben'gai was in his face, waving a medical wand and fixing up the minimal damage the crazy bitch had done.

"Chemical saturation, huh?" The Doc noted with a raised eyebrow. "That CMO Beckett just happened to find and flush in the,'' The Doctor checked the wrist watch she wore, ''sixteen hours since the Kelvin impacted.''

"Yep.'' Chris said and left it at that. The less he lied the less likely he was to get caught in a lie.

"Hmm." The female medical officer was neither slow nor stupid. She pulled lightly at the reknit skin on Chris's face, watching lightly from the corner of her eye as the Captain of the U.S.S Kelvin made himself and his baby boy available to the survivors of the crash.

"He is rambunctious for being so young." One survivor noted, eyes glimmering with wetness. "A miracle."

George smiled lightly, bouncing the happy baby James on his knee, cautious in everything he did with not only his son but also the recovering survivors under his command. He sat in the galley and ate with his small family, against their plans it was true, but both men agreed that the light that they could see being kindled in their colleagues' eyes with every laugh that left the baby's mouth. They had time enough for bonding later, now was the time for healing.

**Part 4**

Dr. Amanda Greyson, formerly of ShiKahr on Vulcan, was on a shuttle headed for Hub 2-33 located in the Malisca Quadrant. There were over a thousand Hubs spread between Union and Federation space. These giant space stations allowed for the rapid movement of material and personnel between spaces. Once at the Hub she hoped to get on a Union vessel and headed toward Atlantean space. She just needed to get authorization first.

The screen primed for her Union identification code, a string of eleven numbers that are unique in all the universe to each individual. The code would identify her to the security system, and to the person on the other end of her call, that she was Dr. Amanda Greyson and authorized for communication with the Elders of the Union of Stargate Protectorate Planets because of her work on "Etiquette: The usage of protocol to facilitate communication between widely diverse groups as seen in the Union". Now, all that was needed was the corresponding identification number for the terminal she wanted to contact.

The mess of numbers cycled through, once, then twice, before a connection was established. The visual needed a few seconds to stabilize before it was clear but the audio was coming through nice and clean.

"-cile, I know primitives with better math than this! What the hell is this? Calculus? You're fired. In fact you're all fired! I don't want to see your faces again before tomorrow morning." The man who was blowing so much hot air should have been ridiculous, no one should be that arrogant or abrasive.

Dr. Rodney McKay had been treating his underlings and minions the same way for over 200 years, it had come to the point where most of his department was made up of Jaffa, Vri-Vulcans, and a few incredibly gifted and stalwart humans just to ensure the turnover rate for his personal lab didn't give Personnel whiplash. Dr. McKay ran the Higher Sciences division on Atlantis, there was no one better and there was no one higher than Dr. McKay and his lab in the entire protectorate. He had planned mass destruction and the end of the known world a time or two from that lab. Amanda was sure that that was what the Surakian Vulcan were so unhinged by: the man had planned and committed genocide from that laboratory and most powers in the Union couldn't be convinced to care.

Eventually the blinking light on the communications screen caught the attention of Rodney as he made to pass to another section of the room. He grimaced as he sat down, "You look like shit Amanda."

She choked, going from technically polite and spiritually rude, to technically rude and spiritually loving was going to take some adjustment. "I divorced Sarek." Rodney didn't look surprised, he had suggested when she had first mentioned meeting the Vulcan that they weren't going to last forever. Surikan Vulcans didn't even believe in honest love, or in wanting to love forever.

"You know you're welcome here on Atlantis Amanda, do you need the authorization?" Amanda nodded gratefully, knowing that the friends she had made during her stay there in her youth had stayed friends, they had stayed concerned for her welfare. And now they were opening their doors for her, embracing the Union creed – No Friend Alone – when she needed it most.

"I-I'm not alone Rodney, and I'll need Keller's medical expertise." Rodney frowned and fiddled with something on the consul in front of him.

"I can get you on a Frigate shipper going from Monhou to Ninlee. The Araskis is passing through Hub 2-33 in 30 minutes and will be going through Supergate 4 in an hour. If you can make that then the SGC Ashes will pick you on the other side of Supergate 4 and ferry you to Atlantis. You'll be here in three hours, sound good?"

As much as it was Amanda's nature not to want to inconvenience anyone, it was her son's life at risk. So three hours until her baby boy got help, as opposed to the 12 weeks it takes without authorization to go through one of the Supergates, or even as opposed to never getting help on Vulcan. Compared to those options, three hours sounded wonderful.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Atlantis's raised spires reached through the clouds, inviting her vessels home. Inviting her people home. Amanda had never understood the confessed feelings of security, comfort, and welcome that Atlantis had evoked in the soldiers and scientists that repeatedly worked on the floating city. Now she did, catching sight of that cityscape in the window she was overcome by the sense that if only she could set foot on Atlantis, everything would be fine, everything could be taken care of if she was there.

Amanda stared out the observation window taking in the immensity, of her past, her future, and her son's only hope. Atlantis was without comparison. Spires of metal and glass filled the view as the most beautiful military base in the known universe captivated any approaching. Her towers were full of only the best and brightest, her barracks held only the strongest and most determined. The piers surrounding the city were full of spaceships. Aurora-class long term research vessels, X-303 and X-304 battle cruisers in dock for repairs. There was a Tollan carrier docked in one of the East piers and a rather ackward looking Gou'ld mothership which could only belong to the Jaffa.

"I never get tired of returning to the city." It was a quiet tone of reverence that came from her left. The SGC Marine, Coropral Alice Dennings, who had been assigned as her escort and guest had joined her at the bay of windows. "The Ashes makes a number of trips each quarter to conflict ridden areas: wraith-space, Klingon space," her guide chuckled briefly, "no-mans space. Mostly for humanitarian aid and space trafficking but I've seen nasty work done by people and to people that sometimes I don't know why I fight. Like why fight when your enemy is stronger, faster, and more terrifying than any of your nightmares? In some cases they're from your nightmares.

"but," the corporal paused, "But then we come home to Atlantis. She's so beautiful, so majestic and terrifying and the people that live and work in her, they have no doubt about the fight. They stand on the very front lines of the Union's fight with the Wraith and they don't even flinch!" The Corporal murmured heatedly, "They think they can do it, that they can stand between the Wraith and rest of the world forever. That one day the fight will be over and the Wraith will be gone, and the longer you stay, you …" She sighed unable to get it out but Amanda understood.

"It infects you." The linguist murmured back. "They gaze at you with their heart's fire in their eyes and you have to meet their courage and determination with courage and determination of your own. They don't give you any alternatives."

Amanda laughed, if the look the Marine shot her said anything then it was more than a little edgy. "I worked with Dr. McKay several years ago and he's infected me with this belief that I should have the impossible." A wretched sob flew from her lips. "My son is sick, so very very sick and I divorced my husband because he didn't feel my son was worth expending the resources and effort to save." She hugged herself ignoring the Marine trying not to panic beside her. "It's just so different."

"I'm different." Amanda whispered.

Amanda had never thought she would be back in Atlantis. This was not a tourist destination; they were still very much on the front in the war against the Wraith. It showed on the City, and the City's relationship with the Union. This was the heart of Stargate Command, "the breeding ground of heroes" one general once reported. There was a reason Atlantis hadn't landed on the surface of a planet, a valid precaution that meant the normally invisible shield gave off the appearance of fireworks from the inside. The City was covered in defensive perimeters and the noxious gas giant the city called home was their first one. Patrols continually swept for stowaways and the city was going on a record breaking 53 years without breech but there was always the chance something could go wrong.

Amanda was scared. Scared to be this close to the war against the Wraith. Scared that her baby wouldn't make it. More than that, she was scared that she had changed too much, that the friends she had spent so much time with while on Atlantis would think she had changed too much. That was the cincher, she had already proven that her son's life was worth more than her marriage and Amanda knew that he was worth more than her personal happiness, but what would she do if she couldn't rely on those she had once thought of as family?

It had taken years to gather the resources to come the first time. Years of paperwork on top months of training in emergency situations. More reading in legal disclaimers than most medical experimentation programs, all of which culminated in silence for the first 336 hours of her stay in Atlantis. A little over an Atlantean week, or eleven Atlantean days she had spent in silence. It had been unreal, the exclusion the majority of Atlanteans participated in against new comers, it wasn't intentional simply a matter that the veterans who made their home in Atlantis have very little in common with the newbies who saw the city as a cash cow. While Amanda would be the first to admit that her stay in Atlantis had benefitted her in ways that went beyond academic accolades, she had understood that the city was alive with more than just people.

She had been recognized by Sarek because of her work on Atlantis. Their first conversations had been on the nature of emotional attachments in Atlantis, as opposed to elsewhere. He had argued that it was the nature of the battlefield, while she had argued in favor of the highly popular 'Clan Inclusion Theory'.

Amanda had eye-witness proof, her eyes, that there was something different in the biology of Atlantean residents that effected how they formed emotional bonds with other and how other people formed bonds with them. All living members of Ascended Union Elders had residences on Atlantis, members of a Clan or not. Long term residents lived longer and even short-term residents could heal from more damage than non-residents. Citizens of Atlantis were more tactile, more likely to form intense emotional connection regardless of gender, and less concerned with traditional social constructs. Sarek called it illogically superstitious, that all those factors were more a result of who was allowed on Atlantis, rather than the idea that Atlantis influenced its residents on any level, let alone a biological one. Amanda snorted, finding humor in the idea that his son might grow up heavily influenced by those who believed in this highly illogical superstitious argument.

While those 336 hours at the onset had been hell, Amanda would admit, the exclusion against her was not because of her citizenship or her study of the people, but because of the inclusive nature of the Clans and the heavy military subculture. And the people who were forwarded to the front on Atlantis were the best of the best the Union had, because of that there was often an arrogance that native Atlanteans or long term residents crushed out of them pretty fast. No one left Atlantis the same way they went in. And if they did they often left in a body bag.

From the window on the starboard side of the SGC Ashes, Amanda could see Rodney waiting for her. She wiped hurriedly at her cheeks, gratiously taking the tissues the Marine had gotten her; Rodney had this ridiculous rule about 'No Crying in Science'. Ridiculous not because Amanda thought there should be crying in science but because he could be seen telling it to people outside of his lab. She was pretty sure he'd told his own children that rule, it would explain soo much.

As each soldier of the vessel disembarks for some well-deserved leave, they saluted Rodney as they passed him. They would be back later to ensure that their ship was ready for duty as soon as possible, for now they were just stretching their legs. As always Rodney scowled at the military men getting off the ship, to him they were all ridiculously stupid and should not be allowed to acknowledge that they breath the same air that he … well, doesn't breath to be fair. Luckily, Rodney's Paired had long-standing orders for military members to respect and obey Rodney. He had also broken Rodney of his habit to use them for experimentation, much to Rodney's misfortune.

Walking down the ramp carrying the baby basket Amanda smiled weakly, "Where is John, Rodney? I did not think he could exist without you."

Hands were flailed, "he said something about 'welcoming a lost lamb'. Poor kid's probably gonna die of shock, being welcomed by his- What is that?!" The finger-of-doom, well known to any who had to work with Rodney, pointed as his voice raised and Amanda had the dubious honor of shocking silence into Rodney.

Gently shifting the exhausted and sick child into her arms, Amanda thought about replying to the stupid question with a stupid answer, as she would have when she was first here. But she was too tired, too different. "My son, Spock. Rodney, he's very ill."

Immediately Rodney was on his Comm unit, directing medical to be prepared for a pediatric Vulcan emergency, already ushering her toward the nearest transporter. Amanda didn't wait for the Director of Sciences to lead the way, only waiting for Rodney to enter the transporter before touching the symbol for the infirmary. It was only around the corner from there and the closer she got to the infirmary the faster she walked, until she skidded through the door. Spock's breath hitching in her arms, his fever still high, his pulse still low.

Gentle, always gentle, hands took the baby Vulcan from her to examine his physical form. Amanda distantly noticed a male couple in the other side of the infirmary, a giggling baby with them too, but her concern and attention was on her son.

**Part 2**

Warmth suffused George, from his head down to his toes, as the happy feeling of home-comfort-safety made him giddy. This was what he missed. It didn't matter that you could barely see the nearest star through 'Smokescreen's' thick red and yellow gas. It certainly didn't take into consideration the gas giant's toxic atmosphere or the repulsive smell the ships would emit from having traveled through the gas. This was home. There was an excitement and hope that filled George to the brim with so much happiness. George could feel/hear the thrum of Atlantis the vague sound of white noise from the interactive tech on the city. Looking down to his baby boy, James was wide-eyed and silently staring at the towers and startling at the welcome home the city sent to her lost lambs. Eyes so large it appeared they were completely blue and an open mouth showing drooling gums, too surprised to have known that his pacifier had dropped.

Popping the cleaned item back in his baby boy's mouth, George shot a look to his partner a quip dying on his tongue at the expression on his face. Chris was not happy, not happy at all. The creases that had developed at the corners of his eyes and his mouth, and wrinkles on his brow described how not happy his partner was.

"Chris?" George gently touched the other man's elbow.

"What if I'm not enough, George?" The pain in his blue eyes, soo close to the blue in their son's, grasping at courage but coming up short.

"You're crazy, Chris! How could they not love you?" Sliding his palms up the other man's arms, "You are everything I could ask for in a Paired One. Honest to a fault, brave enough to willingly take guardianship of my sons, smart enough to know I wasn't myself."

Chris nearly flipped out, and like all things in the past few days, the only thing that kept him from doing so was the baby. Keeping James happy, a desire of both of them, meant keeping their voices even and the movements smooth. James had been good for their communication skills and relationship; George had laughingly joked that all bickering spouses should take their children to therapy with them. Chris had replied that some parents didn't love their children enough not to bicker, quickly shuting down that joke.

"That's just it George! We were incredibly close to Pair Bonding when Winona took you, what if they felt I didn't do enough? That I didn't act fast enough? What if they try to take Sam or James, because you weren't yourself? Because I'm still not your Paired?"

"Winona was ass over teakettle crazy! She attacked you on an SGC vessel, which was reported. How could they possibly think you didn't fight hard enough? You were the one with the evidence!"

"I don't think I fought hard enough!"

The silence was deadening. George's high from being close enough to the City to feel her was obliterated. His world had been rocked, it was visceral the reminder that as much as they had been getting back in the swing of being together, Chris still flinched when they touched and George still cried out in his sleep. They were far from good, they just looked better.

All George wanted to do was make it better, but he couldn't. This wasn't something fixed with a dirty joke, like at the Academy, or diverted with some heavy petting. Chris wouldn't even look at him. Head turned away and with his shoulder tight George didn't know how to approach him. Was he even allowed to? How many times had his partner ached because George had a ring on his finger? How many times had he been frozen at night, waiting for George to crawl in beside him, only to realize he wouldn't? How could they ever get better when Winona had caused so much damage? When _he_ had caused so much damage?

It was the sniffles that caught their attention. Big blue eyes leaked clear liquid as lips trembled. A little nose scrunched and little arms flailed as James gave up. His voice rose and fell, at times piercing in its pitch and at others silent for lack of air. George and Chris leaped to comfort their baby. James couldn't understand what he felt, or where it came from, only that he felt it. And George swore to himself and Chris, James should never feel like that in their hold again.

Chris couldn't deny it. His fears were not going to help him against the Sheppard Clan, and definitely could not solve any of his problems, and most importantly _they were hurt his son_. Something would have to be done about that.

Debarking from the SGC Narcissus which had been their transport the entire way from the site of the USS Kelvin massacre to Atlantis, they met a surprisingly rumpled welcome party. Four men met their gaze. Two tired blondes in BDUs, a sharp eyed man in haphazard sciences gear, and a surprisingly pristine military officer. Who to Chris's eyes seemed to … glow. Just a little.

George greeted the glowing man with a warm hug first, even as James continued to cry in the background, "Patriarch, I didn't know you could exist without your Paired? Where is he?"

The glowing man, which just registered to Chris as a sign of ascension, laughed. "Rodney is on the East pier doing the same thing as me. Welcoming home lost lambs." The Patriarch's keen gaze pinned Chris to place. This wasn't a man to mess with, Chris thought it likely that this man had never been someone you messed with. After all, not many ascend. "And who is this?"

George gamely did the introductions, "my partner, Starfleet Lieutenant Christopher Pike, and our newest addition, James Tiberius." Standing with his arms around their small family unit like any proud father would. The man in front chuffed, clearly uncomfortable.

"George, Son, I'd love it if you left that part out when you introduced him to your mother." He was a wiry and wrinkled, one of the tired messes in BDUs. "Tiberius Ioannes Kirk, George's dad." He stretched a hand toward Chris, tweaking the baby's nose on the return.

Chris blinked. "That's a hell of a name." The group laughed as his new father-in-law explained that his mother had been the Atlantean Record Keeper and Historian around the time of his birth, and yes, it was rather unfortunate.

The hyper but disheveled scientist was introduced as Caleb Beauzen, Paired One to the second tired military man, who was introduced as Doug Krete-Kirk one of George's closest cousins. They had been passing by when pulled to be part of the welcome wagon and as much as they loved seeing George again could they _please_ go to bed now?

"Patriarch John Patrick Sheppard, partially retired SGC General and a ruling Elder of Atlantis." The unsaid, 'boss of us all' had Chris nervous, especially as he started reaching for James.

It was a lollipop, but Chris had been nervous, anxious, and scared of this man for too long. Chris had courage right then because he knew that he would fight hell and high water to claim James and Sam as his children. To let the Sheppard Patriarch get away with spoiling his son this early in the game was not going to help anyone, let alone him. It was quick work to grab the unwrapped candy from the glowing hand before James could taste it. Popping it in his mouth, Chris gave a cheeky smile to cover his shakes as he passed James to George's capable hands. "Thanks. I was just thinking I was hungry."

The calculation wasn't gone from the Patriarch's eye, though it had dimmed a bit. Chris had drawn a line in the sand that he was completely willing to back-up. His son was not a pawn to be manipulated, and neither was George.

**Part 3**

Amanda was preoccupied with her concern. So worried that the VSA had been right, that her boy was unviable. She cursed Sarek for putting that nightmarish word in her head, for not caring enough for their son. She was angry at Sarek for being so much gilt covering and not solid gold. She was angry at the geneticist who, having calculated long odds for Spock's survival probably didn't put enough effort into his genetic design. And she was angry with herself, for not being able to help her own son.

So she paced, a movement she hadn't done in years, attempting to expel the nervous energy while staying out of the doctor's way. Back and forth between the open space before her son's bed and the windowed wall at the other end. Wringing her hands and worrying as though she was nothing more than the illogically overemotional being the VSA and House Surak claimed her to be. All Amanda could was admit a certain amount of chagrin, being exactly what they thought she was. She couldn't even keep track of how long she paced up and down the aisle at the front of the Infirmary, trying to stay close, but still out of the way.

Until she hit a wall. Well a wall made of flesh and leather. It smelled of hot sand and spice, a lot like Vulcan, but where Vulcan had always held the lingering smell of antiseptic, this male smelt of blood. It was only his quick reaction that ensured her back didn't hit the hard floor. Amanda looked up to her savior, had to keep looking.

The male was head and shoulders above the majority, including Amanda, and regardless of the point of his ears and the slant of his brows, he was the antithesis of all things Vulcan. The antithesis of Sarek. Armor, scuffed and beaten, clad a body used for war. Geared up 'for the devil's work' as her mother would have said. Scars littered an impossibly well-muscled frame. The hands that had caught her were covered in some type of partial glove, limiting sensation on his end Amanda would have guessed. A safeguard to inspire security in his colleagues, many of who refused to work with the telepathic races out of a false sense of paranoia. False, because more often than not the telepaths could care less about their secrets, they had better things on their mind.

Amanda appreciated the gloves for more than security around a touch telepath, because she was sure her shocked mind couldn't help but draw parallels to her recently-divorced husband. Which might be offensive to this male, who clearly didn't follow Surak. More than that, Amanda hadn't been touched by any except her husband or a medical personnel in a very long time. She didn't know how she would react to unsolicited contact. At least this male had been brief, wide covered palms had braced her against falling and then he had stepped back. Giving Amanda a clear view to his peculiar red-brown eyes, and the tightly woven plait of braids that crested his head in a Mohawk, from his forehead and to the small of his back.

A high pitched shriek filled the air, the alarm for spikes and dips in vitals, and Amanda spun, there was no way she was going to bury her son. Lunging toward the back of the bay where the pediatric beds were Amanda was abruptly stopped by the most ridiculous sight. There was another baby on the bio bed with her son. And he was … teething on Spock's ear?

"What is going on!?" It was a good thing, though she hadn't realized he was still there, that Rodney was still with her because she was stunned by what she saw. A little blue eyed devil was sitting up on Spock's bio bed, tufts of blonde curls uncovered from the infant sized Starfleet command-gold onesie he was wearing. And when he caught sight of Amanda the baby gave a chiming giggle and smiled. Proving that he did in fact have her son's green flushed ear pinned between two soft gums.

"Did you do this?!" Rodney was up in the face of his Paired One, making the two men in Starfleet uniforms lean back to get away from Rodney's push. "I will not let you get away with tampering with the testing!" While Rodney ranted and raved, something he greatly enjoyed doing, also something his partner greatly enjoyed watching, Amanda directed her attention to the output on the bio bed. Now that her blood pressure had returned to normal Amanda could see what the biobed had recorded, and she felt her eyes grow damp.

Spock's blood pressure was rising, approximately a beat every 30 seconds or so, slowly creeping out of the danger zone. And his temperature, which had been at a level dangerously high to doing damage to humans, let alone Vulcans, was dropping. Not fast by any means, and it would be likely that he would have to stay in the infirmary for several more days, but her son was going to survive.

_Spock was going to live._

Large covered palms caught Amanda as her knees gave out. She was beyond relieved to realize that her baby boy was going to make it, she paid no mind to the strong body that picked her up when her's gave out. Ignoring the still going argument in the background, she had vaguely heard Rodney move on to some grievance against engineering, Amanda turned to the doctor checking vitals at the base of the bed. "Thank you, thank you so much for saving my son."

Doctor Beauness, as the name tag stated, which Amanda had only then realized he was even wearing. No one wore nametags in Atlantis. "I only did my job ma'am." His charming smile froze as bared fingers graced over his wrist.

"Don't lie." Rumbled beneath Amanda's ear, and in her relief she couldn't even be bothered that her first reaction to the Vri-Vulcan's voice was to associate it with heady summer nights, good chocolate, and whiskey. It rumbled, where Sarek's had always been precise, was warm where Sarek's had been chilly even at the best times, and it incited in Amanda feelings she hadn't had to deal with in a very long time. Feelings she definitely didn't have time for now. "He doesn't know."

"Well, do you Haus'k?" Rodney asked, preforming one of those abrupt turn a rounds that he was so well known for. "The situation with Spock had been the reason we called you back to Atlantis."

**Part 4**

Chris was so far past overwhelmed he was pretty numb. He thought he had hid it pretty well, except that his partner kept inserting himself between Chris and everyone else. No one got close, no one touched him. And while George did not go so far as to answer the question directed at him, Chris was thankful that very few were. He wasn't entirely sure how they had ended up in the infirmary. There had been introductions as they passed groups in the hall, where Chris tried to be cordial and polite. Patriarch Sheppard had given information on their housing suite, the arranged therapy, and tentative plans for a Clan event but Chris was tired. Right now all he wanted was to crawl into a bed with his partner and know that their son was safe nearby.

Instead he finds himself jolted awake and at attention, hearing the sirens go off around him. Ducking flying pieces of metal, smelling the burning flesh, and trying desperately to herd everyone to the evacuation shuttles. It took a few minutes for George to get through to him, but he was there, holding him.

"Come on Chris, come back to me." Slowly the wreck of the USS Kelvin was replaced with the blue spires of Atlantis, with its crisp blueish metal clashing the red and yellow gas swirling outside the shields. George was just in front of him, worried blue eyes trying to bring him back.

He leaned into his partner, "thanks." His voice raspy as his ears rang, clutching at George. They were far from good, and sometimes, like now, they didn't even feel better. "It was the alarm."

Surprisingly, it was Patriarch Sheppard who took the next move. Resting a warm hand on Chris's shoulder, feeling a lot more welcoming than it would have earlier, he guided them back into the pediatric bay. "Then let's go find out what happened."

Seeing exactly what happened once they reached the source George humorously slumped into his partner and groaned. "It was James!"

Chris laughed a little, "Weren't you predicting earlier that he'd give us hell?"

"I meant later! James can't even move on his own yet. Regardless of his ridiculously advanced development, we left him in a crèche bed in the infirmary. It wasn't like he could just rewire the shield that kept him in!"

Chris gestured at the baby in command-gold, saying the same thing he had when the baby was purposefully dressed this morning, "he's your son." Doing a double-take Chris let his arm fall and walked forward, directing his next question at the nurse right next to his bed. "Is that boy's _ear_ in my son's mouth? Nevermind. Why does my son have an ear in his mouth?" 

Because he did. James had one pointed green-flushed ear in his mouth, pinned between toothless gums. The baby Vulcan, and how weird was the thought that there were miniature Vulcans waiting to grow up into precisely accurate and calculating adults; and one of those miniatures was laying against his son's chest, head crooked on his shoulder, propped up so that his ear could meet his son's mouth. That was beyond comprehension. 

"Failure to thrive." The deep voice came from the Vri-Vulcan Rodney had called Haus'k as they had entered the pediatric bay. Very intimidating and very alien. These were beings of extreme emotion who made no effort to make their violent society tolerable to foreigners. They were beyond threatening to Chris, beyond threatening to most only exposed to the Surakan Vulcans.

John diverted to Haus'k, clearly and abruptly ending his 'discussion' with Rodney. "Failure to thrive? I thought that rarely happened to Vulcans?" 

Beads jangled as Haus'k nodded. "Yes, Vris promote deep bonds between family members in the first months of a pup's life. And Surakans have mentally adapted to the shallow bonds currently used. Both Vris pups and human … babies," He said after searching for the word, "are dependent upon physical contact, it would not occur to Surakans that they were hindering the pup's development." 

The woman, with dark hair and dark eyes, moved herself from beside the warrior to a chair beside the bio bed. Dragging bare fingertips up James's arm, she smiled gently and then repeated the action to the baby's delight. "Thank you little Captain, for saving my Spock."

James reached to reciprocate, tiny hands and fingers grasping toward the gentle mother. But he reached too far and over balanced. It sent his diapered butt into the air and Spock's face into his stomach. That was when things got a little heated.

There was an audible 'oof' as both boys ended up without oxygen. Then, and Chris couldn't figure out who, but one fist hits soft flesh with a shriek and all bets are off. George and Haus'k immediately waded into the battle between the two babies, when Chris notes, not for the first time that James is unnaturally in control of his body.

Trusting in his partner that George would get James free of his mess, after all he'd probably spend the majority of the next several years getting James out of his messes. Chris turned to the nurse on watch, who held an antiseptic and gauze in hand, to ask, "James is only a few weeks old, is he supposed to be as active as he is, Nurse ..?"

"Marianne," the blonde medical assistant filled in. "And the physical development of Atlantean children is about twice as fast as the average on Earth." Clearly his shocked expression must have showed because she continued. "Part of that is environmental, Atlantis affects the physiology of all of her long term residents by influencing certain chemical components in their biology. It's why fatalities on Atlantis are most often immediate, she tries very hard to ensure we don't want to leave. 200 years cannot undo the damage of 10,000."

"And the other part?" George asked as he held James to the bio bed, ensuring the nasty cut created by Spock's milk teeth was taken care of.

"The other part is enhanced genetics. As a member of one of the Clans of Atlantis, you know that all founders of the Clans were descendants of the original Alterans, and that after they took back the City certain enhancements were done to ensure the lasting legacy and continued survival on Atlantis. This means James, like George before him, will develop faster, have greater control over his body sooner than his age group. He'll likely start puberty at the early end, and it will likely last longer. James will live longer, learn smoother, and heal faster. This will happen whether you raise him here on Atlantis or elsewhere in the universe."

And that, Chris thought, was a lot to think about.

**Part 5**

"Thank you for helping." Amanda had watched as the Vri-Vulcan, Haus'k, had waded into the roiling mass of baby flesh and little feet. He had gently but firmly disengaged Spock's teeth from James's shoulder and pulled him to safety. She watched how Spock slowly calmed while resting in the crook of the male's arm.

"There is no debt." Haus'k said as he carefully arranged Spock to straddle her right elbow, facing outwards and securing her forearm across her son's tiny body. Amanda immediately noticed her son go limp as her wrist cradled his chin near her left shoulder.

"Oh, that, what did you do?"

It was odd seeing the gentle light in Haus'k's eyes, Amanda had certainly never seen it in Sarek's. "It is of vital importance that your son feels he is safe. The easiest way to do that is for him to feel your pulse, your wrist against his face accomplishes this. It is how most of the females I know hold their children." 

Knowledge, Amanda soaked it up like a sponge and wanted more. So she asked, "You are a member of the Vri-Vulcan? Do you live and serve here on Atlantis, or are you just passing through?"

"I am serving here as all of the elite of the SGC must do, but my home is on Hephaestus, in the city of Chronia, home of the gate." The male smoothly guided her out of the infirmary and back to the main halls, ignoring the overtures of Dr. Beauness. "It is not much different from the physical state of Vulcan: hot, arid, desert. But it is where my people tried to start over after Vulcan." He was very careful to keep their walk appropriate and impersonal even as he gave personal information. "I am Haus'k, of the House of Loau'k, and I know your pup's name is Spock, may I know yours?" 

Amanda blinked, in all the time in the infirmary no one had mentioned her name? Or situation? How strange. "I am Amanda Greyson, formerly of House Surak on Vulcan." She watched as Haus'k's gliding walk stuttered for a moment while assimilating that information. She caught the careful glance he used to appraise her, as he slowed their walk to a crawl, and then a stop before turning towards her. 

"I can only think of one thing that would drive a wife from a husband of such a House as the House of Surak." His disposition was grey, "but I cannot believe that a pacifist would try to kill his own son."

Amanda fortified her breath, tensing every muscle but she felt soft pressure of covered palms against her shoulder as she was reminded of what that might do to her son. "House of Surak had decided that they would not expend the resources necessary to 'prolong the death of an unviable experiment'." Haus'k visibly winced and started moving again.

"We are a tough and violent people on Hephaestus, but we love and respect just as violently as we hate and despise. Surakans do not do either. They suppress their emotions until the fevers come and it forces it out." Haus'k shot her a mischievous smirk, brow quirking. "That can't be as fun as they wish it were."

Amanda was red. A bright cherry red as she choked and spluttered against her humor in the idea that Vulcan spends so much resources ensuring no one in the Federation knows about their literal seven year itch. All the while those from Hephaestus made no bone about their natural desires.

Eventually they ended up in front of a door in the long term visitor's hall. And Haus'k left her with this thought, "Your son is not human Dr. Greyson. Do not be afraid to ask for help and support as you try to figure out exactly how you want to raise _your_ son."


End file.
